Oscarisms

Oscar is being wildly infuriating at the moment, because he is five, because he is a boy, because he is a pedant, because he is growing up very, very fast.

Despite this, he can still make me howl.

Three things this weekend have tickled me pink.

Firstly his small obsession with swords. He came down today sporting his sword, stuck in his dressing gown belt loop. This is the dressing gown he loves because it makes him (according to him) look like an Ewok. He was most thrilled that the belt loop was a kind of scabbard. I congratulated him and he said to me very seriously: ‘Don’t worry. It’s not a real sword holder. It’s just for belts. Nobody really wears swords in their dressing gowns.’

Then secondly, when we were at Charlecote earlier, he and Jason took shelter under a huge, clipped yew tree that looked rather like a mushroom but huge.

Jason said: ‘This is a yew tree.’

Oscar looked at him very seriously and said: ‘No dadda. This is a you and ME tree.’

My favourite thing, that has made me quite literally snort with laughter was yesterday evening when my friends Heather and Clive dropped in unexpectedly for a cuppa.

It was late, and the little ones had gone to bed, but were not yet fully asleep, so they heard the front door go, and could not resist the temptation to explore. They know Heather very well, and love her, but have only met Clive once.

Oscar zoomed downstairs and jumped out from behind the hall door into the kitchen expecting to see Heather.

It was Clive, standing there, silently and gravely, observing Oscar with a twinkling eye.

Oscar was stark naked. Clearly he had decided that it would be absolutely fine to be starkers in front of Heather, but Clive? Clive he was not prepared for AT ALL.

He jumped.

He looked slightly panic stricken.

He looked around to make sure he hadn’t actually been shipped off to an alien planet where Heather had turned into a silent bearded man.

He smiled sheepishly and clutched his hands firmly over his tiny manly nether regions.

I liked his reassurances about the belt loop. It reminds me of my youngest when she was 4 or 5 and would tell us she was a kitty (bunny, puppy…). Right after that she would look deeply into our eyes and say “Not really!” as though we might think she had transformed and would wear her kitty (bunny, puppy) form forever more.